Kick off your shoes and relax your feet…
Did I tell y’all I graduated high school at 16? Yeah, I did. So as you might imagine my club experience prior to high school was…nonexistent. The only “going out” I did consisted of high school dances in the gym, and prom and homecoming at heavily chaperoned hotels.
So, in the fall of ’89 I’m a freshman at UAPB. My older cousin calls me to tell me we’re going out – to the club – that night, put on something nice and they’d be there at around 9:30 to pick me up. Word! I’m going to the club for the first time! I got dressed, slapped on a little Wet ‘n Wild lipstick (#521 don’t play!) and waited for my cousin and her suitemates to pick me up.
They walked on the porch and rang the bell. I let them in. And here is where the laughing, snorting, pointing of fingers and other tomfoolery began. My cousin stopped choking/laughing/whatever long enough to ask me, and I quote “what the hell you got on?”
I thought I was doing it big in my cream shell, olive slacks and brown oxford shoes. Apparently I was wrong.
I looked like this:
When I should’ve looked like this:
A trip to the dorm to borrow some clothes, some hair gel and a little eyeliner later? I was good to go. And go I did! I had a ball!
And that, was my first time at the club.